Desiderium
by Seriously Sirius
Summary: Few things are more painful than losing someone you love, especially when apologies are left unsaid. For Ginny Weasley, it was her worst nightmare.


**Desiderium**

A/N: This story is about Ginny and Ron, their relationship, and how it ends. The title, Desiderium, is Latin for the word "regret". If that doesn't say it all, I'll let the story speak for itself. Thank you to Gryffinjack, Pelirroja, Churri, and everyone else who helped me with this. Thank you for being there for me through thick and thin!

She never thought it would happen to her. The sterile walls of the St. Mungos waiting room on the critical injuries floor had grown eyes, eyes of all sizes, eyes of all colors; it was an endless mass of eyes, all staring directly and unblinkingly into her soul. Everything in the room was taking on the same sort of pulsating and unforgiving glow. The medi-witch's desk was abuzz with raw energy and the chairs hardened under the crushing weight of human sorrow. This was a room where people went to be consumed by their pain, their confusion, that underlying doubt that creeps into the minds of the non-rested and the grieving.

A pair of feet carried her down the hall, past a pair of medi-witches rushing in the opposite direction. A shaking hand that she had not known before reached out for the knob. Room 102, it felt like the doorway to Hell. She stopped, her hand attached to the handle. She couldn't do this. It couldn't be real, she'd wake up soon to the smell of cinnamon rolls and a warm hand reaching out to touch her face. The doorknob said otherwise, as the cold, heartless metal shot pangs up her arm. _Damn it! Get a grip!_ She closed her eyes and slid into the room.

"_Hey! Give that back!"_

"_Catch me if you can, slow poke!"_

" _I'm not slow!_ _You're just fast!"_

_The voices were teasing as a pair of small figures ran across the soaked field. The rain was cascading over their small bodies as they ran, half tripping, half skipping over the puddles that jumped into their path. As the boy caught up to the girl who was carrying the stolen object, a mud covered quaffle, he laughed in triumph. The girl looked over her shoulder, and seeing her brother gaining on her, sped up, and headed for the trees at one edge of the field. Splashing through puddles and skidding through mud patches they ran, the boy steadily gaining on the prize. Both were in another world, running hard, laughing hard, maneuvering by feel and instinct instead of vision. They were flying. _

_He had almost caught up with her, his little hands balled into fists as he pushed the air past him. Faster! Faster! She went down first, with a crash and a squeal, her foot tangled in the protruding root. He couldn't stop, and the impact of the trip sent him flying. They lay on the saturated grass, the laughter exploding from them in sharp bursts with their breathing. The rain beat on their faces as they tried to catch the big drops with their outstretched tongues. The blanket of water wrapped itself around them, their secrets poured freely. They were the rain. _

"_I don't want to ever grow up!"_

"_Why, Ginny?"_

"_Because then we might not be best friends anymore."_

"_No matter what, we'll always be best friends; you're my sister, and nothing will ever make me stop being your friend."_

"_Even when you're at Hogwarts? Will you forget me?"_

"_I could never forget you, Gin. I promise!" _

Her footsteps on the cold floor rang painfully in her ears. Pacing and waiting, pacing and waiting. She couldn't take much more waiting. The whir and hum of magic crackled through the room. It was getting louder, the noise slamming against her ear drums as she paced. She had to find courage. The childhood memory had struck her like a bludger in the stomach and left her gasping for breath. Oh, how she hated herself. It wasn't the sort of hate that produces a period of ranting and screaming and then subsides. Hers was a quiet loathing, but nothing could be more painful. The air rattled in her chest as if the very molecules wanted out of their prison. Slowly, uncertainly, she made her way to the bed.

He was resting quietly, but the look on his face wasn't peaceful. In its seventeen years, it had lived too much, seen too much. His face was pale. His lips were lifeless. She drew back, unable to look at her brother. She couldn't look at all the potion bottles littering the bedside table, the magic they were using to keep him alive. He was her best friend, her strength, her everything. Oh god, what had happened to them? Her body began to shake violently, starting with her hands, the shudder rippling though her body, like a giant, unstoppable wave.

"_What the hell do you think you're doing Ron?"_

"_I have to go, Ginny, you know I do."_

"_NO! Do you think I'll just stand here and let you go and get yourself killed? I'm coming with you!"_

"_No, you aren't Ginny, you're staying here."_

"_Ronald Weasley, I will NEVER just sit and wait like a little girl while my family and friends are fighting. I don't care what you do, you aren't going to stop me!"_

"_You aren't coming, Ginny, I don't care what I have to do."_

_The full body bind knocked her off her feet before she had the chance to respond. Blinded by furry and unable to speak, she silently cursed him with every venomous word she could think of. She hated him with every fiber of her being. _

The thoughts were flooded back now, percolating into the deep recesses of her brain. The slamming door, her futile attempts at freeing herself, and the tears she cried once she was alone all hit her at once. Those same tears were prickling at her eyes like tiny knives. They wanted to get out, they needed to get out. They were poisonous tears, filled with bitterness, anger, and immeasurable sadness. She cupped her face in her hands, thinking of her brother. She lost him a long time ago, when the war started he'd changed, and his face told her that she hadn't been there.

His hand was cool and smooth to the touch. She knew that it wouldn't be long now. The last glimmer of hope had faded from the head medi-wizard's eyes. He shook his head sadly; there was nothing he could do. His look tore away the last shred of lingering doubt. She wanted him to live for her, to sit up and take her hand and tell her that it was all going to be alright. The embers of hope in the fire of her soul died and her frozen tears fell hard and fast. It was time to say goodbye. Her breath was coming in short gasps as she clung to his hand. She was completely numb. Gently, she tucked his hand back under the blanket, and took one last look at his face. For a moment, she wanted to die with him. A world without Ron was like a fire without wood, and she didn't know how her flame could keep burning without him. Swallowing hard she touched his cheek with her hand. "I won't forget you," she whispered, her voice cracked and her lips trembled. She opened her mouth to speak again, to say more, to pour her heart out, to tell him she loved him, to scream, to pray, to shake him awake. Instead, she choked down a sob. He was gone.


End file.
